844 days, 20,256 hours, 1,215,360 minutes, or 72,921,600 seconds. That is the approximate duration of my world tour. I never wanted it to end and now, in a manner of speaking, I suppose it never has to. If you wish to go by country do so by clicking on one above. They are numbered in the order I visited them, more or less. If you enjoy reading about it even a tenth as much as I enjoyed living it then you will not have wasted your time. Grab a refreshing beverage, settle in a comfortable chair, and make a journey across the world, experiencing it as I did. Then get off your ass and check it out for yourself. You're not getting any younger.

Tengboche to Dingboche (Three Passes Trek, Nepal) Part II

March
23rd,
2010- The night I spent in Tengboche was an entertaining one. I met
some folks from Ireland, Belgium, England, and the Netherlands. It
was the conversation with the young Dutch woman that sticks in my
mind. She was traveling alone albeit with a guide and porter.
Apparently the guide was…how shall I say…a bit clingy. He was
upset with her because they were not spending enough quality time
together. Sure.

She
was staying at the adjacent guesthouse and because we were at the
start of the season she happened to be the only occupant. Our
guesthouse was a hotbed of socialization so it is no surprise that
she wanted to meet folks. Her guide was not amused. He did not seem
to understand that spending all of her time in a dark lodge while
having a conversation in broken English was not the Himalayan
adventure she was seeking. Imagine that. They had a 'come to Jesus'
heart to heart where he asked her if she wanted another guide. Tears
were shed….by him. She managed to mollify him and all was well but
she was walking an amorous tightrope.

You
may think this scenario sounds exceptionally bizarre. It is not. As
far as many Nepali men are concerned female westies (as I like to
call them) are considered to be the romantic Holy Grail, especially
when they are fetching, as the young Dutch lass in fact was. She told
me that they had spent the day together in Kathmandu on a sightseeing
tour. I explained to her that it probably meant he was in love with
her….literally.

I
laughed when she told me that he was fond of sitting practically on
her lap when they were conversing and believed, erroneously, it might
be a cultural thing. Nuh-uh. To underscore my point I engaged a few
of the Sherpa guides in the room and had them share their anecdotes.
One of them had an Australian girlfriend that was expecting his child
back in Sydney. Another told of a guide friend of his that played
naughty games with a German woman on her honeymoon trek!!! He served
as guide to the newlyweds. The first guide I met in Nepal was having
an affair with a Spanish woman he'd met while she and her husband
were visiting Nepal. Yep, he was their guide. One of their romantic
rendezvous included the outdoor toilet. Be still my heart. Another
friend of mine (a Nepali guide) also has an Australian girlfriend
that just delivered his child Down Under. While I was on my rafting
trip one of my female cohorts played a little bit of slappy grab ass
with the safety kayaker (affectionately known as the 'sexy' kayaker).
So you see if one Nepali stud can hit the jackpot then who is to say
that lightning cannot strike once…twice….threeeeeeeee tiiiiiimes
a laaaady? Not me. To be perfectly honest I was hoping for a little
bit of slappy grab ass with Team Netherlands myself but considering
my degraded state of personal sanitation that was out of the
question.

So
the next day it was Tengboche to Dingboche via Pangboche (That's
lot of '-boches'). A mere three hours and I found myself wandering
the area surrounding Ding. Again, my inclination was to keep moving
but the region was so enchanting that I forced myself to stay put.
Besides, a little acclimatization never hurt anybody.

I
arrived at the Valley View Lodge, ate a poopload for lunch, and went
for a stroll. Ama Dablam was so close I could almost lick it
while Mt.
Taboche stood sentry over the valley. Also, just behind the
village stands Mt. Nangkartshang, a smaller peak yearning to be
surmounted. I heard it calling. Either that or my Schizophrenia was
flaring up. I would oblige of course, but not until the following
morning.

Mt. Taboche

Ama Dablam

Back
at my lodge I experienced what was to become a familiar sentiment
from the guides along the trail. There is, at least as far as I am
able to detect, an undercurrent of resentment toward those lone
wolves like myself that hit the trail without a guide and choose to
carry their own belongings. They view it as depriving a Nepali guide
or porter of much needed income and those like me as leeching off the
well tread paths established by years of Sherpa diligence. There is
some merit to that argument. I cannot deny it. However, I spent so
much time going from trekking agency to trekking agency trying to
convey my specific desires that my head started to spin. No one
wanted to listen to my needs (sounds like I was in therapy). Many are
so stuck on the standard itinerary that they cannot conceive of doing
it any other way. They treat you like a yak waiting to be herded to
greener pastures. I am not a yak, damn it! However, if I was a yak my
horns would be symmetrical, my wool white and of the finest quality,
and I would meander through the hillside with that unmistakable air
of yak entitlement. What kind of yak would you be?

The
simple fact is very few guides have any desire to blaze through a
three week trek in thirteen days with three or four 5000m peaks
thrown in for shits and giggles. I know that lacks a bit of modesty
and I am not trying to toot my own horn but since it is my blog
Hoooooooooooonnnnnnnk!!!!! Believe me when I tell you that having a
guide along would bring with it a welcome sense of calm and security
buuuuut ….. you can't always get what you want. You
can't always get what you want. You can't always get what you want,
but if you try sometime you might find, you get what you need…..

At
one point I returned to my room to find a unicycle lying against the
wall out front belonging to the occupant in the adjacent
room. Unicycle Steve was
spending a couple of weeks unicycling parts of the trail leading to
Everest Base Camp and nearby. That's right, unicycling. This would
not be my only encounter with Unicycle Steve (I love saying that). As
fate would have we would meet again. Why the hell don't I have a
unicycle?

So I
arose the next morning and made my way up Nangkartshang (5090 m –
16797 ft). You might find it hard to believe but the view was
arresting. It is impossible to avoid the 'broken record' syndrome so
get used to it. Alone again and enveloped by the majesty and awe that
is the Himalayas. No blubbering this time. I just stood there and
tried to absorb the primordial hum. With all that absorbing I forgot
to focus on one of my trekking poles and watched helplessly as it
cascaded over the side of a cliff making the signature cling, klung,
and tonk sounds all the way down. I suppose the local deity needed a
sacrifice. Better a cheap piece of Chinese metal than me. If I'd
known I was going to make an offering I'd of brought juniper to burn.
Maybe next time.

So
down I went and before my noon I found myself in the village of
Chhukung from where I would begin my journey across the Kongma La....alone. Butterflies anyone?

"Bite off more than you
can chew, then chew it. Plan more than you can do, then do it."

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